After The Beach
by GoddessofSnark
Summary: Collection of post We'll Always Have the Beach oneshots
1. Earth To Jordan

A/N-Don't own them...however this was recently edited because I came up with about another 4 one-shots and figured I'd put them all together, rather than have them each be separate

The hospital smell came back to her with a vengeance as she walked through the double doors. It was the thing she had hated most, the awful smell of antiseptic that wormed it's way into your very bones, a smell that no matter how much you shower you can't erase it. At least the dead had a smell that you could get used to after a while, but the hospital smell was something that she never could get used to being around.

It didn't take long to find his room, and she walked in, to find him, thankfully, asleep. She didn't want to be here, she didn't want another thing to hamper her, not now, not when she had two people vying for her, two people wanting her, tearing her in two different directions. She sat in the stiff chair next to his bed and looked at him.

He was looking better, stronger than he had before, no longer so weak and frail and on the verge of death as he had when he had sent her forcefully out of his room almost two weeks prior. He slowly stirred awake and the first thing he reached for was the morphine pump to keep it close at hand. He saw her sitting there and smiled. "Hey." She told him and he grinned.

"Hey." He replied, and he looked a little sheepish. "Look, Jordan, about what I said-" He looked down at the sheets finding them to be infinitely more interesting and distracting.

"Woody, it's OK-" she started, but he cut her off.

"No, it's not, and I've heard nothing but hell about it since, and they're all right, I'm sorry about it, I never meant to hurt you." He was being heartfelt, but that was the last thing that she wanted him to be at the moment. "I never meant to doubt you." The last sentence was spoken softly, so that she could just barely hear it.

She smiled at the irony of it, knowing full well he'd misinterpret it. He told her he never meant to doubt her, yet he had every right to, she had spent the whole week trying to figure out if she had meant it and wound up just making her life even more complicated. "Woody-" She tried again, but he continued his ramble.

"It's just that if you were going to love me, I wanted to know it wouldn't be out of pity, that you wouldn't be loving me because I'd be some guy in a wheelchair for the rest of his life or some guy with a limp for the rest of his life, I'd want to know that you'd be doing it for me, not because you felt sorry for me, understandable, right?" She nodded.

"What have the doctors been saying?" She asked and he shook his head.

"They don't know yet. I've got feeling in my feet but they don't know if I'll be able to walk on them or if I'll limp or what. It's going to be I have to get up and walk to find out. Don't know what's going to happen til I go out there and try." She nodded. He seemed hopeful. The fact that he had feeling seemed to bolster his spirits quite a lot.

They lapsed into an awkward silence, not wanting to speak. She was in too much turmoil to do much of anything, she didn't want to have to think of what was going to happen if he couldn't walk, and she didn't want to think of what was going to happen if he could. Her brain kept telling her to go for him, that he was the one, standard All-American White Bread, the good looking blue-eyed well rounded guy that would her stability, and she needed something stable in her life.

But at the same time, in her heart, she couldn't bring herself to fully give herself to him, there was something blocking her from doing so. She knew that part of it was her fear of commitment, Garret had been right about that, even though she tried not to admit it, she really was afraid of getting hurt.

It's why her brain was telling her that Woody was the right choice, that he would always be there, that' he was dependable you can count on my Woody, that he would never leave her, that he was the one thing that would be a constant in her tumultuous life. But he was too constant, too steady.

She wanted something that would be exiting as well as steady, she didn't want to be locked into the bland suburbia that she knew she would wind up in, the same place that she had grown up, right on the outskirts of the city, close enough to say that she still lived in Boston, but on one of those streets in a good neighborhood where her kids would go to a good school and there'd she be, the model wife of a detective, successful in her own right, but all the same, the person the public wanted her to be.

She didn't want to be that person, she wanted to be her own person, Hurricane Jordan as she had been dubbed. The devil-may-care person who let nothing stand in her way. She had said that she never was that person, and she was right, it was merely an ideal to her, something that she craved, but she wanted to be accepted to be loved and she was willing to sacrifice a part of herself for that.

He had started speaking again, and she had completely not noticed it. "Jordan-Jordan-Earth to Jordan." She snapped out of her thoughts.

"Sorry, just thinking, got a lot on my mind." He grinned.

"What, about how soon you can go back to the beach?" She grinned back, subconsciously rubbing the spot on her hip where the dark henna tattoo sat.

"Warm sun, tanning, the ocean, the boardwalk..."

"All great things. We'll have to go as soon as I'm out of here." The smile faded, but she fought to keep it on her face.

"Sounds great." She lied, and he stifled a yawn as the morphine pump dripped a few drops of the clear liquid into the IV, and he felt it kicking in. "I should get going." She told him, standing up. "Feel better."

"Jordan-" He called as she reached the door. She turned around to face him. "I love you." The words were plain, unadorned, simple. She could see on his face that he really meant what he was saying, it was something that she had known, she knew that he loved her.

"I love you too." She told him, but her heart wasn't in it.


	2. Knowing

A/N, I know, I'm evil, but I honestly can't choose myself! I know who I personally would pick, but I can't do that to her.

The knock on the door startled him. He got up and opened it, to find her there with a bag of food, and he laughed. "Thought you might like some Chinese." He shook his head.

"Why does this seem very familiar?" He said, as she waltzed into his house and started pulling the food out of the bag as he got plates and silverware.

"Deja vu?" She said with a smile as she dished out the food. He shook his head.

'Try you were here a week ago begging me to go to the beach with you." She grinned.

"Well, you no longer can disappear against a whitewashed wall." He looked down at his arms which were a good few shades darker.

"So, why are you here this time? Plotting another getaway?" she shook her head.

"Sadly no, just wanted some company." He smiled softly at her.

"Just as well. I don't think I could take another weeks vacation with you." She laughed. "Being dragged on every single boardwalk ride, dragged into the ocean and back out again, having your name painted on me-which hasn't even begun to fade, by the way, and spending the last few days of it doing things that my body still hasn't recovered from-"

"Was very very fun." She finished for him. She rolled her shoulders and he heard them crack.

"You're tense." He pointed out as they ate, and she shrugged.

"Just stress." He shook his head.

"How often have you been home this week?" He asked her and she thought.

"Just to sleep. Spent most of the rest of the time at the mourge or stopping by to see Woody." That was the one avenue of discussion he didn't want to follow right now.

"How is he?" He asked trying to act as if he did care about the young man. He did care, but at the moment the injured detective was his competition.

"Not bad. He's starting to move a bit, but he's got a lot ahead of him." He noticed the dark circles under her eyes and frowned.

"You haven't been sleeping."

"I told you, it's just stress. Things'll be a lot better once you're back and Woody's recovered." They finished eating and put the plates in the sink.

"Is it really just stress?" He asked, concerned for her well being, and she nodded.

"I swear to you, only stress." She followed him to the couch where he flicked on the TV, looking for something, anything to watch. The settled on the Sox game.

"Come here." He told her, and she acquiesced, leaning back against him as deft hands rubbed her shoulders, gently working out the knotted muscles, easing away the stress. She grinned, if she was a cat, she would have been purring underneath his gentle but forceful touch.

"Who knew you were so good at massages?" She asked as his hands strayed from her shoulders to work their way down her back.

"Hidden talent." He told her as he felt her relax fully beneath his touch, enjoying the feel of her.

"What other hidden talents do you have, and are any as wonderful as this?" She asked him as she sprawled out on the couch, her legs across his lap as every knotted muscle was slowly unkinked. He simply grinned as he worked his way down to where her lower back dipped and back up.

"One way to find out." He whispered in her ear, gently trailing kisses from her ear to where his access was hampered by her shirt. She rolled over to face him, and looked up in his eyes. He could see the regret, the fear in them, and he instantly wished he could take back what he had said.

"Garret-" She started, and he shook his head.

"Just forget it." He told her, leaning back.

"Garret-no, don't, don't stop." She leaned forward and kissed him. She leaned back against him, pushing him down, and he sprawled out, leaning as far back against the cushions as he could, giving her room to lay partially on top of him, partially on the couch.

"Jordan-" He started. He didn't want to force a commitment out of her, but at the same time he wanted to have some sense of where he stood. She had warned him and he hadn't cared, he still didn't, but if he could only know, it wasn't the thought that she might choose Woody over him, that he could live with, it was the uncertainty that was killing him.

"Garret, please" She knew what he was trying to ask of her. "It's hard enough on me trying to figure out what's going on in my life. I hate this feeling of not knowing what's going on in my own life." He wrapped his arms around her holding her close, and he felt teardrops fall onto his shirt.

"It's OK." he soothed, gently stroking her, soothing her.

"I just wish I had a clue of what I wanted."

"Do you?" He asked. "Have any clue what you want?" She looked at him. "Tell me, no matter who it is-what it is." Brown eyes met their match and he could see the indecisiveness in her.

"My brain keeps telling me to go with Woody, and my heart keeps telling me no, anyone but him, for all the reasons my brain is telling me to pick him, that he's stable, that he's the embodiment of the guy next door, that he loves me, that he's the white picket fence 2.5 kids perfect guy with just the tiniest bit of spice, and my heart keeps reminding me that I swore from the time I was six that that was the last thing I ever wanted." He smiled.

"What does your heart want?" She shrugged.

"Right now it's to busy going 'Not Woody, not Woody, not Woody' to say what it does want." There was just the faintest hint of a grin on her face. "I walk out of that hospital every single time saying something that I've realized I don't mean, but I say it anyway because I keep thinking that Woody's the one for me-if nothing else, I know he loves me."

He paused for a long minute, the words were there, they just didn't want to come. "He's not the only one." He told her softly, and there was a moment where something flickered across her face, but he couldn't tell what, and she kissed him.

"I know." She told him, resting her head against his chest and staying like that for a long time, neither of them speaking.


	3. Wish

A/N Another post We'll Always Have the Beach one-shot, I think I've got one more in mind (maybe two. Maybe) Don't own them, just the plot. Enjoy!

He rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty and cold. He frowned when he realized she wasn't there, but there was a note on his nightstand that told him that she had run home to shower and change. He didn't blame her, it wouldn't look good if she showed up rumpled wearing the same clothes she had worn the day before when the crew had seen her leave. But she could have at least said goodbye and not just gotten up and left in the middle of the night.

He rolled out and made his way into the shower. He was still half asleep, he was getting to old for rampant sex at all hours of the night, he needed his sleep. She had stayed, at least part of the night, which was looking good for him, it was something else that was a mark in his book, the fact that they had a physical relationship. She wasn't sure if she and Woody had ever had something physical.

He got dressed and climbed into his car. He had no idea where he was going but he just drove, the radio blasting, some rock station that he had come across and he laughed at the sheer irony in the song, the chorus of which seemed aptly appropriate. "I want you, I don't know if I need you, but I'd die to find out." Seemed to sum up his relationship pretty well.

He found himself at the bay, sitting on the shore skipping stones over the murky water, thinking. He wanted her, there was no doubt about that, she was absolutely gorgeous and no one could refute that, and from the day he met her he had known he was gone, that he could never go back and think he loved someone the way he loved her. But did he need her?

The more that he thought about it, the more he realized that he did-without her he had nothing, not anymore. He didn't have his job, he didn't have a marriage, his daughter was in college, she was the last thing left in his life-he loved her, and even if she was only a friend, he would still have her. He needed her in his life, if only as a presence that seemed to echo hope.

And how many times had he offered himself in place of her? It wasn't that he was noble, far from it, he was just trying to save her. Every time she put herself in a place where she could be harmed, he offered to go instead, he offered himself instead of her. He remembered listening to the audio feed from the consulates office after that whole fiasco and when he heard the gunshot and Woody call her name, his heart stopped. He thought she had gotten in the way, that she could be dead, that he should have been adamant about staying instead of her, but after she was OK, relief flooded him.

She still had so much to live for, it was the only reason he would tell her off of him, what could she want with an old cynical bastard like him? But she obviously saw something in him, enough to keep up a relationship with him if nothing else. He just wished she'd make up her mind.

If she choose Woody he could live with it, he didn't mind the young detective, and as even he said, they'd always have that wonderful week at the beach, as well as the night that he had just spent, and everything else, and they would still be friends, no matter what happened, he loved her too much. And like that quote, if you truly love something, let it go, he was willing to let her go if she wanted it.

He would do anything for her, and she knew it, and the thing that he loved most was that she didn't exploit it, she could have, she could have used him and done whatever she wanted to him, but she didn't, she told him that she knew she would mess with him and lead him on, but he didn't care.

He loved her and that was what mattered. Not if she stayed the night, or if she picked him or Woody-he knew that Woody didn't have her heart for his sole fault of being too good to be true. He knew that she didn't want to be the woman she would be if she married him, but he didn't fault her for wanting that, wanting the stability that cam with him, the all American white bread poster boy of a boy scout.

And he loved her, but so did Woody, he didn't blame her for being torn, if all she wanted was someone to love her, well she had two options. Woody, suburban wonder child, or him, the old cynical man with too much baggage. And he wouldn't blame her for choosing Woody for all the reasons she didn't want to. The detective was a good man, if nothing else, and would try his hardest to make her happy.

But still, there was a glimmer of hope in wanting her, it was the one thing he wanted the most. He loved her and her indecisiveness played into his hand, the fact that she knew that she didn't want Woody gave him a chance, and it was a chance that he wished more than anything that she would take.


	4. Still Cool

A/N-So it got to a point where I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to do it, I HAD TO. I'm not saying all of you who reviewed telling me who she should pick didn't help, but it got to a point where I was driving myself batty. Don't own them but if I did I'd give Jordan a knock upside the head and ask her what the hell she wants. There is another one in the works though, one more.

* * *

"You don't mean it, do you?" the words came as a bit of a shock for her and she looked up at him.

"Mean what?" She asked, playing the fool even though she knew what he meant. It was a question she had been hoping to dodge for ages, one that she didn't want to answer.

"When you say it, you don't mean it, you don't really love me." she thought for a long hard minute. She shook her head, knowing that the lump in her throat was going to be hard to dispel.

"Woody-I do love you." He looked at her skeptically. "I do, just not in the way you want me to." She had finally said it, the words she had wanted to for so long, the truth.

"What do you mean?" He asked her, and she looked down at the sheet covering him. She couldn't meet his eyes, not now.

"It's just you're too perfect, you're the epitome of an all American boy next door." He looked at her with a confused look in his eyes. "You're this great wonderful guy who's loving and caring and perfect, and well, you're the picture of suburban life."

He thought about that for a moment. "Maybe I am. But what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing farmboy," She gave him a brief smile, "But I just don't want that. I want something exciting, not a white picket fence and two point five kids and a two car garage. I want something that's not that, I don't want to be the detective's wife going to PBA balls and hobnobbing with all those people, I don't want to be that person, I'm a city girl through and through, I'm not even sure if I want to get married." He smiled at her. "You mean the world to me Woody, but I just can't think of us past what we are."

"Friends, you mean." He almost spat out the word with distaste.

"More like brother and sister. You're everything to me, but I can't think of us being more than that. We've tried it Woody, it hasn't worked, it's too awkward." He looked at her, his blue eyes boring into her. It was the truth, every time they had tried to push their relationship further, she pushed him away, it never once felt right to her.

"There's another guy, isn't there?" She shook her head.

"No, no." She lied, only partially. She didn't even want to begin to sort out her feelings regarding that. She had told him the truth, that her heart was begging her to pick anyone but the man before her that it hadn't had a chance to make a decision on who that other person should be. He could see it in her eyes that she was lying though. "Fine, a fling, I just wanted to know what I felt, for anything, tried to see if I could get everything to coordinate with each other to tell me what I wanted. And they all came to one conclusion."

"What's that?" He asked her.

"That I don't want to live in the suburbs, that I don't want to be a detective's wife, that I don't want someone to be my anchor, that I'm a ship lost at sea and perfectly content to be so." He looked at her, and she could see the hurt look in his eyes, but also the resignation.

"You never meant it, did you?" He asked her, and she shook her head.

"That first time I said it, I was so afraid of loosing you I couldn't think of anything else to say. I do love you Woody, but it's not the way you want me to." His blue eyes softened slightly as he realized how downright emotional she was.

The past two weeks had been an emotional roller coaster for her. After Woody had gotten shot she had just gone completely numb. The beach had changed all that. And she had come back to see him and she realized that what his dream was and her dream was were two different things. "You never gave us a chance." He said quietly and she stared at him.

She had given them a chance, but it never felt right, it wasn't something that she felt comfortable doing, she had given him a chance and tried to think about what the future would be like with him and everything that she thought of was something that she didn't want.

"Maybe cause I know it wouldn't work. You want to be the detective that's the perfect picture of the American dream, don't you?" He opened his mouth. "Be honest."

"Yeah, I guess."

"And that's the only thing I my life I know I don't want. It just won't work, don't waste your time on me Woody, it's not worth it, it's just not going to work." He stared down a the bed for a long minute.

She had wanted it to work, she had wanted him to be happy, but she couldn't see it happening. The past few weeks had changed everything. They would just be weighing each other down, anchors to one another, neither one of them as happy as they could be with someone else. She'd be in the suburbs the one thing she never wanted, and her unhappyness would just make him upset.

"We're still cool though, right?" He asked her, and she wrapped her arms around him.

"Still cool." She held him close for a long minute and felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of her.


	5. Choices

A/N surely you don't think that I think Woody THAT cut and dry? I mean he's a very shallowly written character (Jerry O'Connell needs to pick roles with depth, seriously, he's got talent, but he plays all these shallow roles) but that doesn't mean he's completely a cardboard cutout. So here's this, it's the end of this saga (unless another plot bunny sics itself on me). Thanks to all of you who have read and reviewed and enjoyed it!

* * *

She ignored the pouring rain as she walked down the familiar city streets, not stopping, just walking until she reached where she wanted to go, to find the one person she was looking for to not be home. Instead she sat in front of his house waiting for him, ignoring the water that was soaking her to the bone, it didn't matter to her, she was beyond caring about it.

She saw the familiar large black SUV pull up and she could see his concerned look from the second he pulled in. "Jordan, what the hell are you doing here? You're soaked." He said, opening the door, and ushering her inside to the kitchen, getting her onto tile so that she wouldn't soak the carpeting. "I'll go get you something to change into, you must be freezing."

She shrugged, she felt almost numb again, after she finally progressed to feeling again, again she was numb. The first five minutes had been the best feeling in the world, but after she realized what exactly had happened and realized that he had just put up a front, acted as if it didn't matter, and now she was here, with the man that started it all.

No, it wasn't right to blame him, it wasn't fault that she couldn't figure out what she wanted, he had merely provided an alternative, he had been the one catalyst that made her realize that maybe there was more to life than what she had, and what she could have. He merely loved her, but then again, so did Woody. Too much love for her to put up with.

He returned a minute later with a sweat suit for her, which she quickly changed into, not caring that he was there, he had seen her naked before and this time it was out of necessity, not anything else, she was freezing, and it felt good to be out of wet clothes. He put up a kettle of water and waited for it to give it's shrill whistle before pouring it out into two glasses and gave her a glass of hot tea. "Thanks." She said, sipping it slowly, warming up.

"What possessed you to come out here in the rain and just sit there, the garage is open you know." She shrugged.

"It felt good when I was out there." He rolled his eyes.

"You were drenched, how long where you out there?" She thought for a second.

"Only a few minutes, but I walked from the hospital. I went to see Woody." He looked at her with feigned indifference. She knew that as much as he acted like he didn't care what she decided on in the end, that he did, and that was what was making things so utterly difficult for her, the fact that she knew that no matter what she'd be breaking one of their hearts, that she couldn't keep both of them in limbo, and she couldn't go and pick a third person, as much as she was tempted to.

"How's he doing?" He asked, and sh re could tell that the man was concerned, the two were friends, which was another ting that made this the absollute worst decision of her life. Picking one over the other would mean breaking their friendship, breaking on of their hearts, and making the one who was left utterly miserable. She only had one ace in her sleeve and that was she knew how Garret was going to take it.

Drink, act like things were perfectly OK, drink some more, put up a grand show about everything being perfect and nothing ever going wrong, throw himself headfirst into work, whatever it is that he would do if Slokum became a permanent addition to the mourge staff, and drink until he realized that it was a futile effort and ease up on the drinking but remain permanently implanted into his work without a thought of a social life. It was what he did after Maggie, it was what he did after every other failed relationship that he had had, the only difference she noticed was the amount of scotch that he imbibed before realizing it was useless.

She had no clue what Woody was going to do if she told him that he was the one she didn't want. She had seen a hint of it already, he acted like he was OK, but she could tell after thinking about it, rolling it back and forth in her mind that he wasn't. He had acted like it, made a grand show of them being still cool, but it was him hiding the pain that she knew he must have felt. What was it with men and being afraid of showing their emotions?

Woody had acted like it didn't matter when she proved him right, that every time she said those three little words there was no emotion behind them, at least not the emotion he wanted there to be behind them, and she knew that must have been a blow to him, the same way his telling her to get out had been a blow to her. But he had admitted that what he wanted was the one thing she didn't. He wanted the little house in suburbia with a backyard and a little fence and a messy garage filled with everything under the sun.

The very house she was in at the moment. She almost laughed at the sheer irony of it. The one thing she wanted least was the one place she had turned to. But Garret, he wouldn't care what she did, he didn't want anything out of the relationship except her love, she could tell that, he didn't want a serious commitment, he didn't care what she did to prove that she cared for him, he would be perfectly content to have her around him as a friend if nothing else.

Woody, well, he wanted the American dream and they both knew that. They both knew that he was still in many ways the farm boy he had been when he first moved to Boston and that there were some things that he just couldn't change. He had acted OK when she had told him that that was the reason that she didn't want him, but she could see it in his eyes, the unspoken words, the look that told her that he would change for her.

He wanted to be the one to make her happy, but so did Garret. But she'd just be a weight for either of them, no matter what she did. She'd weigh them down. It was a matter of who would be hurt less. And the winner in that one was the man who was sitting across the small kitchen table from her, silently staring into his mug, waiting for her to sort out her own emotions and thoughts.

He had already done the whole suburban thing, he had already done the white picket fence and the happy marriage and the kids, he was past all that, Woody was still in his prime and she didn't want to have him miss all that, she didn't want him to go through life with the regret that he never had that little house with the backyard and the chance to coach little league. But she didn't want to hurt him either. The sound of her name brought her out of her reverie.

"What?" She asked, looking up at the man across the table from her.

"I was just wondering if you wanted something to eat." She smiled slightly.

"I'm fine thanks." She said, and they sat on the couch, her curled against him. "Garret?" She asked and he looked at her, his brown eyes soft and caring.

"Hmm?"

"I can't promise you anything." She said, and she saw the confusion cross his face. "But I like this, I really do. It's just, I-" She looked for the words. "Woody and I-well-" She had an idea of what she wanted to tell him but the words wouldn't form. "I mean, he knows that I don't love him because he's the suburban prince, but I don't want to hurt him. I care too much about him to hurt him, but it's not the love that he wants, which leaves me in the worst decision of my life." He held her close and kissed her forehead.

It was so true. Her ship lost at sea was horribly caught in irons with no way of turning towards the wind. "What do you want? All of us aside, what do YOU want? Don't care who it is you're going to hurt, what is it that you want." She thought of it. She wanted the chance at a family, she wanted the choice of having one, she wanted someone stable, she wanted someone that would love her. What she wanted, both of them could provide. That was what was making it so hard.

"I want things to turn out alright so that I don't have to choose." He smiled at her, and she leaned back into his touch. "I don't want to weigh Woody down which is all I'll do if I'm with him, he'll act like it's all OK, he'll act like he did today, but I don't think he'll ever be really happy with me. But I don't want to promise you anything either." She stared into his deep brown eyes and saw her own reflected back at her.

"Then don't. You're here now, that's what matters, isn't it? The future is the future." She grinned.

"I think the beach must have switched our personalities. You've gone from the serious one who thinks everything through before taking a risk to a live for the moment type and here I am agonizing over something trying to decide." He smiled.

"Love makes you do some strange things." There it was again, the L word, and she stiffened, but relaxed again. Love. He loved her. Woody loved her. She loved-she loved the chase, she loved the feeling of being in complete control, and now that was gone, she was no longer a carefree little girl, she was a woman, and she couldn't spend the rest of her life dancing around relationships the way she had with Woody. And now that the chase was gone, now that he had conceded, he had folded and let her take the pot, she felt strangely hollow.

"Indeed it does." She said, kissing him passionately, falling back against the cushions. She was sick of thinking about the choices she had. She was there, so was he, she wasn't going to promise him that she would be there forever, that she was always going to love him or that Woody wouldn't compromise on their dreams.

He had flat out said that the future is a long way off. She didn't know what could happen in the next hour, or next day, or next week. She could be gone or so could they, something could happen to alter what she had, right now the only thing that she had was the present and she didn't want to debate on what she had anymore. She just wanted to love and be loved, and at the moment, that was what she had, and she was content to leave it like that. Woody had a long way until he got out, maybe things would be different then, but until that day, she had someone to love her.


End file.
